


The Way to His Heart

by FairyNiamh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyNiamh/pseuds/FairyNiamh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cooking worked better and soothed Stiles’ nerves in ways Adderall could only dream of working. He could concentrate on cooking. He could forget all about werewolves, kanimas, algebra, idiot friends, and overbearing alphas when he was cooking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to His Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely: DrivvenWrinth

Cooking worked better and soothed Stiles’ nerves in ways Adderall could only dream of working. He could concentrate on cooking. He could forget all about werewolves, kanimas, algebra, idiot friends, and overbearing alphas when he was cooking.

He knew that he was taking something basic and transforming it into something delectable and healthy. This simple task brought him more satisfaction than getting a good grade or beating a videogame ever had.

It had started out simple. Canned soups, frozen dinners, little things he could fix and feed to his mother; while she was going through chemotherapy. It eased some of the strain on her and on her good days, they would actually cook together.

The first meal he cooked under her watchful eye had been spaghetti. It was nothing fancy and the sauce was canned, but he had done it himself and everyone enjoyed it. Naturally, once he had tackled spaghetti, he was positive he could fix some ramen noodles for himself and Scott. Needless to say, that day he learned that not all noodles were created equally. Ramen noodles should never ever be cooked for seven minutes or they come out with the constancy of paper-mâché paste, with a taste to match it. Other noodles, like radiatore, took longer. By trial and error, he had more than a few of those badges in the cooking department.

Still, he had only been nine when the Ramen disaster had happened and every great cook hits bumps some in the road. As his mother grew sicker and weaker, he drove himself harder to be helpful. His meals became more elaborate than before (or as elaborate as a young boy could come up with.). He learned to wash clothes; their pink underwear had been testament to his first folly in that area. He even picked up trash, anything in an attempt to make his mom better. His dad had explained how she could not do a lot of stuff anymore. So Stiles had picked up the mantle of the household chores department, anything he could do to save his mother was worth it in his mind.

However, it was all for naught, his mother had died anyway and his father lost himself in the bottom of a bottle of Jack. Stiles had no family living other than his dad. So the women around the neighborhood and a few of his friend’s mothers taken it upon themselves to make sure that the Stilinski men were actually eating and nothing 'bad' was happening to young Stiles.

Stiles had understood their worry, but he did not really _understand_ their worry. Before her death, his mother had taken the time to write out all of her family recipes for him and he did his best to recreate them. It would have been easy to give up on the cooking and taking care of the house, but cooking reminded him of his mother. He knew she would want him to keep it up. Plus, he needed to take care of his dad.

The first time Stiles had brought his dad a bowl of his mother's Mulligan Stew, it had been three months after his mother’s death. His dad had thrown the bowl at the wall causing it to shatter, and then curled into a bawling human ball on the floor. Stiles had quietly cleaned up the mess and helped his dad to bed. The next day would be the day his dad sobered up and apologized for putting Stiles through so much hell. He swore that he would not touch alcohol except occasionally and even then, he wouldn’t drink enough to get drunk.

Stiles deemed the incident ‘no harm, no foul; as long as his Dad agreed to order him something under his dad’s name. He really wanted a subscription to some cooking magazines, but just because Stiles ~~loved~~ liked to cook didn't mean that he had to advertise it. His tormentors did not need any more fodder for their fire. Since his mother died everyone had backed down, but Stiles knew it wouldn't last forever. This calm before the storm was welcome as far as Stiles was concerned.

After a few months, cookbooks weren't enough for Stiles. Especially since his dad had only bought him, what Stiles liked to call ‘Meat and Potato’ cookbooks. He wanted to do more, something 'exotic'.

When the Mahealani's moved to Beacon Hills, Stiles was quick to offer them a warm welcome; including a rich chocolate cake. He may have _slightly_ bothered Danny's mother about learning some authentic Hawaiian dishes. This, of course, made Mrs. Mahealani laugh. "I'm not from Hawaii dear. I'm from Nebraska, my husband is from Hawaii and he can only burn water. Sorry about that," she had explained nicely.

Stiles had nodded and left the woman alone, moreover he was secretly planning to find out some traditional Hawaiian foods to cook and have Mr. Mahealani try. Stiles would openly admit that his first attempt at manapua was disastrous. Scott wouldn't even eat it and Scott ate anything and everything.

His second attempt was better; at least Scott could eat it, even if no one else could. His third attempt was a success and Mr. Mahealani praising him. It took Stiles a full year to perfect the recipe and to put tears in the man's eyes saying that it truly tasted like home. After that, the Mahealani’s would purchase the stuff for Stiles to make them something once a month, much to Danny's discontent. He didn't want anything to do with the spaz-tastic kid that Jackson and the rest had warned him about. Of course, those were also the same kids who had encouraged him to trade lunches with Stiles, since the boy's _'father'_ always sent him with fantastic lunches.

So, when Danny came up to Stiles during lunch and all but demanded a manapua, no one picked on him about it. Later, Danny pulled him into a hug and thanked him when no one was looking. No matter what Jackson and the rest of the pack said or did, Danny could not be truly mean.

When his middle school decided to have a cultural exchange, poor Stiles was at a loss as to what to cook. Just where did his family come from besides California? His dad was absolutely no help. All he did was tell Stiles to _just_ clean the attic. While cleaning the attic, he came across an old family cookbook that belonged to his grandmother on his father's side. He chose to fix Kolaczki and Perogi for the cultural festival, still he did decide against wearing 'traditional' Polish garb.

Naturally, he also ended up teaching Danny to make manapua, while he practiced cooking his own food, which was not as easy as it sounds. The stereotype that all gay men can cook? Yeah, Danny shattered that all to hell; because sadly the boy was as good a cook as his father was. Stiles wound up making his dish as well, after cleaning the smoke stains off his counter and begging Mr. Mahealani to buy him a new bamboo steamer to replace the one Danny had destroyed. The man graciously did so; still Stiles suspected that was more due to the sudden manapua shortage than any real feeling of responsibility.

Even though the festival had kept him extra busy, it had been a good festival and many of the mothers (and a few fathers) had been willing to exchange recipes with him. Nothing good lasts forever and things changed once he hit high school. Scott wanted to try out for Lacrosse and dragged Stiles with him to try out. Fuck his life if they both did not make the damned team. However, neither of them actually played on the field. They were there to keep the bench nice and warm for the other players and be the human practice dummies for the team. The only person on the team, besides Scott, who wasn't out to beat the shit out of Stiles was Danny... go team.

This severely cut into Stile’s leisurely cooking time, he was lucky to be able to make dinner each night. Making his own lunch was out of the question. Out of necessity, he had to limit the manapua making for the Mahealani’s to just a few times a year.

His dad had been very disgruntled about his sudden diet change. He was glad his son had joined a team, but that did not mean he had to like everything that came with the team. When Stiles had made his meals they were nutritious, yes; but they were also tasty. The local restaurants just could not, for some unknown reason; combine the two properly. However, at night, on the weekends, and holidays John got to eat well. John had even bought Stiles a subscription to Quick Cooking to ensure his stomach's continued happiness.

Tenth grade brought a completely new level of fucked up to Stiles’ life, Werewolves. What the actual fuck? Great, he has to worry about something new. Before he was worried about his Dad's cholesterol and possibly being shot in the line of duty, now he had to add the possibility of being mauled by werewolves or mauled by Scott to the list of worries about his father.

His cooking time was now reduced to one fucking day a week, if he was lucky. To be honest? It was starting to piss Stiles off. He didn't want to worry about all of this shit; he just wanted a day to relax in the kitchen. Was that too much to ask for?

Evidently the answer to the question was a great big ‘hell yes’ and ‘fuck off Stiles’. Where tenth grade had been a nerve-wracking ball of shit, eleventh grade was worse. Hell, he longed for the days of Matt, Gerard, and the Kanima, because with them he at least still had a chance to breathe and cook during the holidays. (Yes, those evil fuckers were kind enough to take off on all the major bank holidays, thank you very much.)

The Alphas? No holiday, no break; no chance to fucking cook! He missed his kitchen and he missed being able to sit down and go through his cooking magazines. There were new recipes he desperately wanted to try out and those Alpha-addled idiots were not allowing Stiles any time on his own. They had even kidnapped him and broke his damned arm. Broke his arm... his dominant arm that he used for mixing batters and pan-frying his fish. It was mean and they surely did it on fucking purpose, because obviously putting him out of commission would benefit their pack by hurting Derek's pack. Who even thought that way? Oh, right, Alphas. Stiles swore that the entire Alpha pack didn't even have a fully functioning brain cell between them.

The Alpha pack finally left at the end of his junior year. Yes, Derek and the rest of the pack had to severely beat down Deucalion and the rest of his pack; which was not as easy as Stiles made it sound. Yes, Stiles had made the Alpha pack sign a peace pact ensuring that they would not bother the Beacon Hills pack unless there was a gross error in judgment on Derek's part and the idiot twins were allowed to finish High School under Derek's watch and command. This was all just fan-fucking-tastic.

Still, Derek only had to deal with the terrible twos during the school year. They were required to go home to their pack during the summer and holidays. Too bad that this had not happened before spring break. Whatever, it happened. School was out for the summer, the Alphas were in Nevada along with the duo (who had actually wanted to stay thanks to their fascination with Lydia and Danny.)

This meant that Stiles could finally get in some serious cooking time. So, he arrived at Derek's new place early in the morning and thrust a long list into Derek's hand as soon as the Alpha had woken up. Stiles ordered him to "Buy every fucking thing on the list. Because, I'll be back later and I am making the pack dinner tonight."

Derek just sat there staring at the list before tossing it across the table. He didn't feel like dealing with Stiles’ eccentricities at that moment. He needed coffee and possibly an intravenous caffeine drip. He glared at the laughing and happy Scott dragging in a very wide-awake Jackson behind him. It was too early to deal with happy or awake wolves too. Why couldn't these two be like the others and want to sleep in on non-school day mornings?

"Why are you here?" Derek growled after taking a large gulp of his cooling coffee.

"Two days ago you told us we had a meeting bright and early this morning. Remember?" Jackson grumbled as he looked around the small kitchen with clear disdain.

"I said first thing in the morning. The others are not even up yet so it's not time for first thing. Wait, is that why Stiles was here earlier?" Derek questioned them with a frown.

"Derek, we usually go to Lacrosse practice earlier than this and did Stiles say anything? He's been really grumpy these past few months," Scott, questioned as he sat down across from Derek.

Derek yawned and scratched his head before answering. "He handed me a piece of paper and demanded I buy everything on it."

Scott looked down at the piece of paper in front of him and smiled widely. "Did he say anything about cooking?"

"Yeah, he's making dinner tonight." Derek remarked with a shudder.

"Too bad it isn't his dad cooking. His dad is an awesome cook. He made Stiles get recipes during our cultural exchange. Man for the next few months everyone wanted to trade lunches with him. The leftover pot roast was wonderful. Why he's a sheriff instead of a chef I’ll never know. But it's Stiles cooking so - Hey, can werewolves get food poisoning?" Jackson contemplated as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe.

Derek replied, "Not easily" while Scott growled at the two.

"Listen, go get the stuff, I'm not kidding. I will start a mutiny if you don’t buy everything Stiles asked for," Scott growled.

"Scott, I know you two are friends and possibly lovers, but I'm not anxious to get a stomach ache. I don't want to be Stilinski's guinea pig," Jackson remarked with a snort.

Scott smirked at his pack mate and said, "Stiles did all the cooking. His dad can't even make hamburger helper let alone all the delicious dishes Stiles creates."

"You're pulling my leg aren't you McCall?" Jackson asked incredulously.

"Call Danny and ask him. He even made Danny's dish for the cultural exchange, but I think Stiles swore him to secrecy. Danny's Dad might actually get violent with him if Stiles stops making manapua for him. Shit, maybe the sheriff will tell you," Scott babbled rapidly.

"How do you know this?" Jackson challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"I was his willing guinea pig. He sucked at first, but he got better quick," Scott prattled with a shrug and a smile. "He really likes to cook and I miss his cooking. Derek, I meant what I said; I will start mutiny if you manage to deprive me of a good meal. He hasn't cooked in over a year - a year," Scott remarked seriously.

"Yeah, sure Scott whatever you say," Derek mumbled with another yawn before downing the last of his coffee. He got up and got himself another cup of coffee before planting his bottom back in his seat.

"Derek," Scott growled.

Derek rolled his eyes and then raised an eyebrow at the wolf who dared to growl at him, before Scott could say anything Derek's phone rang. The Alpha did not even bother looking to see the caller figuring whoever it was would be better than the whining Scott was doing. When he heard "Does your oven even work?" at the other end of the phone he knew he had made a massive error.

"Of course it doesn't, Stiles. We just breathe fire on our frozen pizzas to crisp and heat it up," Derek growled as an answer.

"Wonderful, so I just need to bring over pots, pans, mixing bowls, and cooking utensils. I should have my Dad's dinner fixed in two hours so be sure to have all the grocery shopping done by then. Bye." Stiles said quickly before hanging up on the Alpha.

Derek groaned as he sat the phone down. "Why do you and Stiles assume I'm going to cave into his demands to cook for us?"

"Scott, were you being upfront with me about Stiles being the one to cook his lunches?" Jackson questioned with narrowed eyes.

Scott held up his hand and dialed someone on his phone. "Hey Allison. Listen, about tonight, I can't make it. Can we reschedule? Day after tomorrow? Lunch instead of dinner. Okay, miss you too. Bye. That is how serious I am Jackson," Scott said after he hung up with Allison.

"Derek, go get the food. I don't care what Stiles demands are, do it. There is no way in hell I am going to miss out on a chance at eating Stiles’ home cooked meal. Come on, no time for coffee, go get dressed and get to hopping," Jackson ordered as he tugged at his seated Alpha.

"You certainly changed your tune," Derek replied with a snort.

"A way to a man's and wolf's heart is through his stomach. Now go," Scott barked as he got up and started to push Derek every time Jackson pulled on the Alpha’s arm.

"Fine, I'll go. Neither one of you are allowed to complain once Stiles poisons you though," Derek said with a growl as he made his way to his room.

"Fine, I also reserve the right to say 'Told you so,' when you start asking Stiles to cook more often," Scott said with a smirk.

Derek growled and grumbled as he went to get ready to go grocery shopping. Who ever heard of a werewolf going grocery shopping? Sure, his mother had done it, but she was his mother and parents shopped for groceries. He was more than half tempted to make Scott and Jackson do the shopping instead. He knew if they got the wrong thing Stiles was sure to fuss about Derek not doing his duty as the Alpha, never mind that delegating certain chores could be seen as his duty as well.

Well, he needed to get out of the house anyway and indulging the human member of his pack every now and again couldn't hurt. Scott was so sure of Stiles’ cooking ability that he had canceled his date with Allison. That alone was reason enough to go through with this craptastic idea. Yes, his curiosity had been piqued.

The trip wasn't relaxing, but he got the damned groceries and even paid a few bills while he was out. He debated about going to the diner to grab a bite to eat, but figured Stiles would bitch and moan if he found out. Plus, he did need to get the meat and ice cream home. If he let the ice cream melt then Lydia and Erica were sure to attempt to stab him in his sleep.

With a grumble, he passed the diner and even drove past the fast food joints. He was getting hungry. He knew the rule of eating before shopping. He wondered how the pack would take the sudden appearance of different foodstuffs in the cabinet, fridge, and freezer. Hell, knowing his merry group of idiots, they would not even notice.

He went home and put away the food he had purchased; because of course, no one was around to help him. He had no idea why Stiles wanted three briskets. They were werewolves, not actual wolves. Their stomachs were about the same size as a human stomach. However, the pack did consist of mostly teenage males, so maybe Stiles was onto something there. When Derek was a teen, he used to eat like a pig too.

Twenty minutes after Derek had put away the last of the food, he heard the tale-tell sound of Stiles Jeep rumbling on the dirt road leading to the renovated Hale house. He watched from inside the house as Stiles struggled to get some contraption from the back of his jeep. He would have felt bad, except no one had helped him with groceries, so why should he help Stiles with whatever the hell he was doing?

Once the younger man had wrestled the rocket-ship wannabe out of the jeep, he looked around the yard before he dragged it to an empty spot in the yard. He then set about clearing any stray leaves from a ten-foot radius and placed large stones around the rocket. Derek did not know what sort of spell Stiles was setting up, but it was making him nervous.

Stiles pulled out some wood and searched for some wood in the surrounding ‘woods’. Did that idiot really think he was going to cook out there? Did he not realize that outdoor cooking could cause a forest fire? AND the last thing Derek needed or wanted was another house fire. The house was finally finished and he even had a real bed now. Not a mattress pulled from the side of the road.

To Derek's horror, that was exactly what Stiles was doing. He loaded the rocket; Derek refused to think of it as anything but that; with wood, used paper, and a fire starter. He set the innards of the contraption ablaze. He watched with bated breath, as Stiles poked and somehow manage to get the wall of flames to come down and settle deep in the bowels of the beast that he was sure Stiles would use to cook his poison in.

Once the fire had settled into a smoldering heat, Stiles rushed to his jeep and grabbed a big box. Then he went into the house and grabbed the three briskets that Derek had purchased less than an hour ago. Derek watched with wide eyes as Stiles washed his hands and then used the sharp knife to cut away some of the extra fat. Then he scored it before rubbing spices in and rushed back out to place the meat fat side up in the smoker. He slammed the lid down on the thick cloud of smoke billowing from the contraption.

Derek was still watching as Stiles walked back to the house pausing briefly to let out a deep hacking cough. "Smoke is not good for your lungs," Derek said seriously.

"I am well aware of that. However, I also know you can't successfully smoke meat without it. No worries I'll keep an eye out for it. You won't have to go near it. Is Brisket okay with everyone? Shit, I should totally fix up a tofu loaf for Isaac. That is one messed up werewolf Derek. Are you going to want any of that?" Stiles asked as he made his way back to the kitchen to wash his hands again.

Derek cocked his eyebrow and said; "You know he's not really a vegetarian, don't you? I've seen him take down more than his share of deer and then take them to the butcher for smoked sausage."

"Seriously, how do you guys survive? Didn't anyone bother to teach you how to cook?" Stiles questioned, his arms folded across his chest and a frown marring his looks.

"I can deep fry French fries and flip a burger as well as the next man," the older man said defensively.

Stiles looked at Derek in horror as the meaning of those words sunk in. "Fast food so does not count. That is not cooking, that is a heart's worst nightmare. No, really - not even Isaac knows how to cook?"

"His dad did the cooking for them. The one nice thing the man ever did," Derek remarked with a shrug.

The younger man just shook his head and went to the box he had brought in. "Really, it's a shame that no one knows how to cook. It's not good for your health to depend on take out all of the time."

"Yes, well it seems you're here to take care of that. You had better be a decent cook Stiles, because Scott and Jackson both threatened me about the groceries. Scott even canceled his date with Allison," Derek demanded seriously, as he watched the younger man pull out skillets, pots, bowls, and other devices of torture from the box.

"I've had a few years’ worth of self-taught cooking and I do get paid to make some stuff a few times a year. But seriously, I am just here to poison you all and make you die painful deaths," Stiles snarked as he rolled his eyes.

"I swear that if you kill me or one of my pack I will haunt you to the end of your days and then follow you to wherever you land. You will never know peace," Derek threatened.

"Down boy! The only person I ever came close to poisoning was Scott and that was more than seven years ago. Well before he was part of your pack or even a werewolf," Stiles said soothingly.

"You want me to believe that you started cooking at an early age?" Derek snorted.

"I don't want you to believe anything. I just want to cook the pack a delicious and nutritious meal. If it's going to be a problem, I can always just leave and finish this all at my house. Feed my dad instead of a pack of picky wolves," Stiles raised his voice as he embedded the knife he had been holding into the cutting board he had brought along.

"No problem, as you were," Derek laughed with raised hands and then beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen. Who knew that Stiles had a temper like that? Perhaps he should talk to Scott about that and Stiles’ mad knife skills. That could be a lifesaving skill in the future.

Derek watched from a safe distance as Stiles cut, chopped, and minced various vegetables. He winced when Stiles burned his hands on the hot water as he started the baked beans in a pressure cooker. Once the beans were put on to cook and the veggies were put away Stiles ran his injured hands under cold water before sitting down and turning on the television.

"Don't you have things to cook?" Derek queried as he eyed the lounging young man.

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked at the werewolf with a look of pure apathy. "I don't have to stand over the food for it to cook. I'll check on the beans and brisket in an hour or two. Then I will fix dessert and sit my ass back down for a spell. Then as the beans and meat are finishing I'll do the other sides. Speaking of, you have any requests for desert or sides?"

Derek pursed his lips and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "A lot of your cooking seems to be waiting."

"That's the way of a cook. Hurry, hurry, rush get it done quickly, and then wait for it to finish cooking. From deserts to everything else. Yes, some meals are quick. Now, answer the question Sour-wolf; do you have any requests?" Stiles explained as he surfed the channels on the television.

"Can you make a pineapple upside down cake?" Derek asked, sitting down next to Stiles.

"As long as you don't require cherries, yeah. I'll make a pie and a few little dump cake, including pineapple," Stiles promised while stretching his arms.

Derek frowned as he leaned his head on the back of the couch. "I said pineapple upside down cake, not a dump cake, whatever the hell that is."

"Trust me, you'll love it. No one has ever hated my dump cakes. Did you get my apples, vanilla, and sweetened condensed milk?"

"Yeah, I got everything on your damned list. No idea what you’re fixing with that much sweetened condensed milk though."

"You'll see in a few hours. Now, set your alarm and wake me up at noon. I woke up extra early to cook meals for my dad. I swear he had an orgasm in front of me and I will forever be scarred by his face. No one should ever see their parent's orgasmic expression Derek, it's wrong and traumatizing!" Stiles whined as he laid his head on Derek's empty lap and nuzzled the older man's waist.

"Having a teenager nuzzle your stomach isn't exactly my idea of fun. Come on, just get up," Derek informed him as he tried to pull Stiles off his lap.

Stiles bit the rock - err, flesh in front of him and warned, "If you attempt to move me again, there will be no pineapple cake for you. I mean it man; I just need a quick nap. You can watch TV and let me use your lap. It's not like you’re the one who's doing the cooking," Stiles complained.

"Fine," Derek said through gritted teeth as the younger man easily snuggled deeper into his lap and fell asleep. Honestly, Derek had never known anyone who could fall asleep as quickly as Stiles did.

Forty-five minutes later the pack came down from their slumber and Jackson, Lydia, and Scott came back with some type of lunch in their arms. Derek put his finger to his lips and tried to keep the pack quiet. He would never admit it out loud, but he was enjoying having Stiles sleep on him more than he had expected and the young man still had a few more minutes of sleep left to him.

The pack eyed the duo and he could tell that the Erica and Lydia were having trouble keeping their laughter in. Isaac couldn't stop smiling and kept making aborted moves as if to poke the slumbering human. Scott looked like Derek had stolen his favorite toy.

He had not! Stiles wasn't stolen property. He had laid down all on his own without Derek even commenting on how tired he looked. In fact, Derek had even put up a token protest. There was no way he was going to apologize for actions not of his design.

"Stiles, time to wake up," Derek whispered softly as he gently pushed the younger man's arm.

Stiles stretched and looked at the faces surrounding him. "Umm, not complaining, but why are you all looking at me?"

"You're not cooking!" Scott accused him.

"Wait, why would _Stiles_ be cooking?" Erica challenged with her nose in the air.

Stiles rolled his eyes at the girl's contemptuous glare. "I think Stiles is cooking because he's the only person in this house who knows how to. I think that if Erica doesn't want to eat my food, she can go to the diner or a fast food joint. I also think I may actually kill you all if you don't get the fuck out of my way so I _can_ cook." Stiles growled as he went outside to check on the meat.

"Erica, if you prevent this meal from happening I will hurt you. It's been more than a year since Stiles cooked for me, I'm desperate," Scott roared with anger and truly murderous intent.

"Throwing meat on a grill and then throwing it on a plate isn't cooking. Those hot dogs and burgers are going to be charcoal by the time he serves it," Erica remarked with a shudder.

"Actually, it's just brisket and it still has about four more hours of cooking to be done. I mean it Erica, play nice or no food and that includes no dessert!" Stiles warned as he made his way through the living room to the kitchen.

"You're making dessert?" Scott asked with a look of pure rapture on his face.

“Yeah, Derek wants pineapple upside down cake and I'm not averse to fixing it. You are always so weird when I cook," Stiles gabbed with a chuckle.

Scott quickly ran up to his friend and folded him in his arms. "I love you and if I didn't love Allison as much as I do I would so totally ask you to marry me."

"Riiiiiigggggghhhhhhtttt, Derek; a little help here?" Stiles called as he tried to worm his way out of Scott's octo-grab. Stiles would have to ask Derek if were-octopuses were real, because he was somehow seeing his future with Scott filled tentacles... and that was a scary fucking thought.

"He can't cook if you don't let him go," Derek remarked as he grabbed Scott by the nape of his neck.

"Good point," Scott replied as he let go of his victim -err- Stiles. "Go to the kitchen and make us your god-like nummies Stiles. I require your delicious revivification!"

Derek watched as Stiles shot to the refrigerator like a bat out of hell and then started the arduous task of cooking for a pack of wolves. After only a few minutes Stiles looked to be ‘in the zone’, zipping back and forth as he continue to cook the meal.

Amazingly enough, while Stiles was zipping around the kitchen and outdoors, Scott was tracking the oblivious cook with his eyes (and head.) Derek had never seen the younger man look more wolf-like than this. Maybe there was something to Stiles’ cooking after all. It certainly smelled delicious, but Derek would not be deceived, looks and smells could be deceiving.

As everyone sat and ate the lunch that Scott and the others had brought in entranced by the blur that was Stiles Stilinski. Derek watched as Scott openly panted for the food and even Erica had to wipe the drool from her mouth. If Derek had even one ounce less control, he would have been sitting and begging Stiles for bites.

Stiles let everyone have a little taste of something he was cooking and Derek wanted to faint when he tried the baked beans the boy had put on right after starting the bar-b-que fire. Derek hated all beans (except green beans), but he could understand why Scott had whimpered when Derek had been chosen to try them and Erica melted when she tried the mashed potatoes. Merciful mother, Derek had not looked forward to a meal since he was a child.

Everything wrapped up just in time for dinner. Stiles made the waiting weres pull out a picnic table, chairs, and all the other stuff Stiles deemed needed for the dinner. Wielding a wooden spoon, he directed the food to the table.

The meat took center stage. The only incident had been when Jackson made for the meat before Stiles had sliced it. This led to another spectacular knife display as Stiles threw the knife and it landed near the wide-eyed teenage boy's groin.

"Attempt to rush my food again and I'll ‘eunuch-y snip-snip’ you, got it?" Stiles growled. "Now take the knife and go wash it. Can’t use it until it's clean."

After grumbles and growls directed toward Jackson, the young man swiftly went to clean the utensil and returned with it post haste. Derek really needed to talk about Stiles knife skills.

Once Jackson returned with the knife, Stiles sliced up the meat. Then he threw his hands and towel in the air and told everyone to ‘chow down’. No one really noticed the human weaving between them. The hungry wolves were too busy grabbing and platting food and what's more curious, no one had noticed his departure until after the dessert.

"Where's Stiles?" Derek contemplated after he had eaten the last bite of his pineapple dump cake. Stiles had been telling the truth, the cake was delicious.

Scott frowned and sent off a quick text and in next to no time he was sitting there and frowning at the reply. "He's at home. He took a plate to his dad and then went home. He thought we could use the time to bond."

"If I didn't love his cooking so much I would hurt him," Jackson replied with a faint growl. Derek couldn't help but agree. Maybe they should take some time to make Stiles feel included in the pack. It could only be good for them all.

Derek did not have an ulterior motive. So what if he thought Stiles might cook for them more often if he felt closer to the pack, the boy was a part of the pack. He needed to know that they appreciated him for more than his research skills.

With a frown, Derek got up and left the house to see the younger man. He quickly brushed off any and all questions directed toward him. He had an errant pack member that he needed to make feel included.

Once he made it to the Sheriff's house Derek climbed to the familiar window and looked in. There was Stiles sitting in front of the computer with a pen clutched in his hands and an old worn out notebook sitting beside the keyboard.

The werewolf wondered what could be so engrossing that it had Stiles scribbling madly. Research maybe? However, what could the young man be researching? There was currently no known threat in town. So, oh - maybe he was researching porn. Derek had to wonder, was this something that he should interrupt?

Deciding ‘to hell with it’, Derek threw open the window and had his sense assaulted by the smell of something delicious. Never mind that he was stuffed to the gills and would quite likely explode from another bite; he wanted to know what he was smelling.

"It's gingerbread cake," Stiles chitchatted suddenly.

"What?" Derek questioned.

"The smell you smell; it's gingerbread cake. It should be done in a few minutes if you want a slice," Stiles informed him while stretching.

"You didn't stay," Derek, lectured with a frown.

"Would you like a slice of the cake or not?" irritation clear in Stiles voice.

"More than cake I really want to know why you hightailed it out of there." Both answering and ignoring the question.

Stiles sighed and rubbed his temples. "I already explained to Scott, that I thought you could all use a little pack bonding time. You didn't need the token human there to mess up things."

Derek growled in irritation. "You are pack."

Stiles gave a humorless laugh. "Hey, I'll still cook for you guys. You don't have to create a spot for me. How about every Wednesday until school starts? Not sure if I feel comfortable enough to cook for the duo, but you guys can come over here on the holidays and eat with me and my dad."

Derek could feel his irritation expanding past its limits. "Why do you irritate me? More than any living being you get under my skin and refuse to live up to my expectations. I fit you into a nice neat mold and then you break it. Why?"

"Molds are boring, unless you are talking about the fungus; no one likes that. Some of them can even kill you."

"I'm not joking Stiles!" Derek roared.

"Funny, neither was I. Look, Scott has known me for years and still can't understand me. So, you should stop trying to categorize me, it will only irritate you more." Stiles remarked as he stood up and made his way down the stairs.

"You're an ‘enigma wrapped in mystery and dipped in darkness’," Derek recited softly as he followed Stiles down the stairs.

"That is not how that quote goes."

"Yeah, I know, but it does fit you very nicely." Derek shrugged.

"How flattering. You should get back to your pack. Knowing them they stuffed their guts and are rolling after you."

"You have a very high opinion of your cooking don't you?"

"Did you eat any of it?" Stiles inquired.

"I was hungry and it was there. So yeah, I ate it," Derek replied with a sigh.

Stiles snorted, “You’re a ‘lying liar who lies’.”

Derek sighed and looked to the younger man. “I liked the cake.”

“Knew you would,” Stiles chattered as he removed the gingerbread from the oven.

Derek walked over to Stiles and stood there waiting for him to put the hot cake down. “Can’t wait to see what you cook next week.” he murmured faintly.

“That makes two of us. You sure you don’t want a slice of cake?” the younger man questioned as he dug out a bite and popped it in his mouth.

“I could try a bite,” Derek whispered before he swooped down and kissed Stiles deeply.

Stiles whimpered and melted into the kiss. Just as his hands threaded through Derek’s thick dark hair the man pulled away. “Looking forward to Wednesday.” Were the words he uttered before leaving a stunned Stiles just standing in the kitchen.

Hell yeah, they both had something to look forward to. Perhaps Derek could convince the younger man to cook for just the two of them and maybe Derek would be able to have his dessert _on_ Stiles.

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Manpua is also known as Manju in Japan. Both, are delicious and to be tried.


End file.
